Blistex Tex

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Blistex Tex

By Indelibleink

The little girl stared in amazement at the wall of books, trophies, and other awards accumulated over a lifetime by her grandfather. Earlier, during Thanksgiving dinner, she had heard the elderly gentleman refer to his 'study' several times. This was somewhat puzzling to Jennifer Gilead, age eight, since whenever she had heard the word 'study' in her young life, it meant - without fail - that homework lay ahead on her immediate horizon. Consequently, it just made no sense to her that her grandfather had homework to do - surely he had completed school years ago. As a result of this nagging conflict, Jennifer made her grandpa promise to show her after dinner just what this 'study' business was all about.

"What is this, Grandpa?" Jennifer pointed up to a plaque recognizing him for distinguished service in the Forestry Service, where he had spent the better part of his eighty-two years, before mandatory retirement forced him out fifteen years earlier.

The octogenarian scratched the stubble of his beard, and chuckled. "I guess you could call that my 'discharge paper', Jen. They give you an award - something to make you feel good - whenever they want to follow that up with some bad news."

Since the explanation made no sense to the third-grader, and she didn't feel an overwhelming need for further inquiry, she moved on down along the shelves full of memorabilia. Suddenly, she stopped and took a picture down from the shelf, and ran over to Gramps. "This is you, Grandpa, when you didn't have so many wrinkles. Where are you in this picture?"

The old man looked wistfully at the photo for a few seconds then grinned. "I'm outside your great, great grandfather's house in North Dakota. He built it with his own two hands. Well, he started to build it with his own two hands, but then there was the unfortunate combine accident and he lost a hand."

Jennifer's contorted her face before uttering, "Yuk...That's gross, Grandpa."

"Yes, it was, my dear. But the good news is, he replaced his missing hand with a hook, and he quickly became a master fisherman, especially because there weren't any snagging regulations at the time. Of course, the bad news was he had to give up his job as quality control inspector at the balloon factory. Seems that just about every balloon he handled somehow turned out to be defective. Not only that, but prior to the accident he had taken great pride in fooling everyone each year at the annual Halloween costume party. After the accident, the townsfolk found it pretty easy to figure out who the guy dressed as 'Captain Hook' was every year."
 
"What was your great, great grandpa's name, Grandpa?"

"Well, his tombstone says his name was Herman Jenkins, but everyone north of the Mississippi knew him as 'Blistex Tex', Darlin'."

Jennifer sensed Gramps was getting warmed up for one of his better tales, so she hopped up into his lap and made herself comfortable. "Tell me all about 'Blistex Tex', Grandpa."

There was a tap on the study door and Jennifer's mom stuck her head inside. "Dad, you're not telling Jennifer one of your exaggerated wild west yarns again, are you?"

"Aw, you know me, Elizabeth..."

"That's exactly why I'm asking, Dad. If memory serves, didn't you subject Jen to a 'history' lesson in which you told your granddaughter the twenty-ninth President of the United States was Orville Redenbacher?"

"I never said such a thing, Lizzie." Grandpa then whispered in Jennifer's ear, "Everyone knows Orville was the twenty-eighth - not the twenty-ninth!" As he uttered the last syllable he poked Jennifer in the ribs, and she squirmed much like a fish snagged on Blistex Tex's hook might have.

"Grandpa, what does 'exaggerated' mean?"

Gramps looked up, and noting his daughter glaring at him with a look that could only be described as oozing 'malicious intent', he paused and thought a moment before responding. "Jennifer, the best way I could describe it would be to say it's the same as 'embellished'."

"But, what does 'embellished' mean, Grandpa?"

"Exaggerated."

"Dad, if that girl has to repeat third grade it's all going to be on you! Especially if it turns out she also needs therapy!" Elizabeth closed the door as quickly as possible so her daughter wouldn't see her laugh, for after all, Elizabeth too had been subjected to these very same stories when she was the one perched on her father's lap a generation earlier.

As the door, shut, Gramps looked down at the pair of wide eyes looking back up at him filled with nothing but eager anticipation. "Now, Jenny, where the heck were we before your Mom burst in here guns a-blazin' and a-huntin' for bear?"

"You were telling me about Blistex Tex, Grandpa."

"I reckon I was, wasn't I?"

"Where did Blistex Tex grow up, Grandpa?"

"Well, Jenny, Bistex had a pretty rough childhood. He was born in Portland, Maine - not Oregon - and his parents, who both suffered from fruit allergies, died from beri-beri when Blistex was a little baby."

"Was Blistex raised by wolves, Grandpa?"

"Worse, Jen. He was taken in by a Russian dance troupe who raised him as one of their own."

"Why was that bad, Grandpa?"

"Well, the troupe only had little girls in their party, so Blistex had to make do with basically tights and tutus. Can you imagine a little boy your age being called 'Tutu Tex', Jen?"

The little girl shook her head remorsefully. "Tough break for Blistex, Grandpa."

"Yeah. Probably explains why - as he got older - he always had a special place in his heart for La Cage Aux Folles. Safe to say he had some 'issues' later in life. In fact, were he alive today, he might even land a guest spot on Dancing With the Stars."

Jennifer cocked her head in a manner similar to a confused poodle. "La Cage...what?"

Gramps laughed. "Don't worry, Sweetie, it's a different language than English, they speak it up north of the border in Montreal..."

"French, Grandpa?"

"Close, Dear, but I'm pretty sure it's called 'Canadian'."

"Oh. How did Blistex get his nickname, Grandpa?"

"Well, he had chapped lips growing up in Portland - Maine, not Oregon - from the salty lake wind that always blew in from the Atlantic."

"No, Grandpa, I meant the 'Tex' part of his name. How did he get that?"

"Well, Jenny, as it was explained to me, while the dance troupe went up and down the east coast looking for work, he tried many different nicknames, but old Blistex was pretty particular when it came to nicknames - or was it 'peculiar'? Anyway, they went through Alabama, but he didn't like 'Blistex Al', then they went through Georgia, but he didn't like 'Blistex George' - although some say he was partial to 'Blistex Georgia' - but that was probably his tutu talkin'..."

"Didn't he go through Massachusetts, Grandpa?"

The old man thought for a second. "Well, I suppose he did, but 'Mass' as a nickname? Nah...Probably too Catholic."

"So, I guess this all means Blistex got his nickname when the dance people went to Texas, right, Grandpa?"

"No, Jen. Blistex Tex was never in Texas."

Jennifer crossed her eyes, folded her arms, and in as an exasperated tone as she could muster, asked, "But Grandpa, then how did Blistex get the 'Tex' in his name?"

"Well, Jen, this is where it gets complicated - for me. See, the whole reason the pilgrims came over on the El Nina, Mento, and Glass-of-Sangria was because of a thing called 'taxation without representation'. They were trying to escape taxation from the British, and when they started taxing the Blistex lip balm your great, great grandpa used on his lips, well, that was the straw that broke the camel's hump. He became a political activist, and he organized a movement to make the Blistex tax illegal. The only problem was, he wasn't the best speller in the world, probably from spending too much time with the dance troupe and not enough with his English book - and his formal petition mistakenly referred to the abolishment of a 'Blistex Tex' rather than a 'Blistex Tax'. Well, nobody spotted the typo until after the bill was passed and the law enacted. So, to make a long story short - if that's still possible - the Blistex Tax was never affected, but your great, great grandfather - thanks to his own legislation - was himself banned in fourteen states."

Jenny looked at Gramps slyly. "Banned in fourteen states, Grandpa? How come we never learned about the 'Blistex Tax' in school?"

"Elementary, you little doubter, you. President Redenbacher later vetoed the 'Blistex Tax', so great, great gramps was off the hook - and I don't mean the one that replaced his hand."

Jennifer was beside herself with laughter. "Grandpa, that's the silliest story I've ever heard, and you've had some silly ones."

"Thanks, Jen. I guess that means I've done my job."

At that moment Jennifer's mom again stuck her head in the study. "Okay....I hate to break this history lesson up, but dessert is being served, and I have to assume you two both want some..."

Jennifer didn't need to be told twice, and she hopped out of her grandfather's lap and made a dash for the door. "Kids under age ten get two pieces of pie!"

"Says who?" Elizabeth turned back gave her father the evil eye.

From a distance, all Elizabeth and her father heard was, "President Redenbacher!"

Grandpa smiled. "That's my little girl." 

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Words: 1602